


Intervention

by nectarimperial



Series: Light My Fire Verse [2]
Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Knives, Lingerie, M/M, Referenced D/s Relationships, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, Unintended Use of Forks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nectarimperial/pseuds/nectarimperial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They don’t stand a chance, do they?”</p><p>“Not a chance in hell.”</p><p>Ludger worries about his brother's well-being, so he decides to hold an intervention. Julius, however, has a much different opinion about his relationship with Rideaux.</p><p>*Also a standalone*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I wish this ship was more popular, haha. They're hilarious and crazy and I love it to pieces for some unknown reason. 
> 
> The story is p. out there--even for me but, regardless, here it is. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.
> 
> I should probably mention it's AU! The idea is that it's in the same verse as Light My Fire--Julius and Rideaux are just on the other side of the country, haha. 
> 
> Tagged as graphic depictions of violence, but it's not too wild. Regardless, if this kind of thing triggers you, please proceed with caution.

“We’re worried about you,” Milla says, sitting on the couch in the living room of the spacious beach house, sleek lines in a chrome finish decorating the minimalist interior, large bay windows open to the breeze outside. Rollo’s lounging on his back in a stream of a light, grey tail twitching at random intervals, and sometimes his paws move and he meows softly—he’s probably dreaming, Ludger figures.  
  
Ludger and Milla are visiting for their Spring Break, taking a holiday from the towering buildings made of concrete, skyline nearly invisible no matter where you were located, and trading it for time at his brother’s beach house on the opposite side of the country. But the trip isn’t just for relaxation on white sandy beaches and warm Pacific Ocean waters, it’s also an intervention. Mostly for Julius’ safety.  
  
He’s sitting across from them, adjusting his glasses, legs crossed in his blue pinstripe pants, black gloves resting in his lap, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Milla and Ludger look at each other with concern on their faces. They’re holding hands, and then move to speak at the same time. Blushing slightly, Milla nudges Ludger and tells him to go first. Julius just rolls his eyes and massages his temples.

“Do you remember this last Thanksgiving?” Ludger asks.   
  
*

The emergency room was surprisingly crowded for a holiday, mostly burn marks from people that thought frying a turkey was an acceptable take at cooking poultry, or people that had accidently sliced something during an unfortunate carving accident. A few people were sick, pressed along the wall of the waiting room, and then of course there was the three of them, sitting as far away from the “unwashed masses” as humanely possible.  
  
At home, the food that Ludger had spent hours slaving over was slowly growing cold on the table, missing one fork from the place setting. The fork in question was currently sticking upright out of Julius’ arm, most of the blood having bled out onto his white coat, the rest sitting on a saturated dishtowel in his lap. Ludger sat with his back pressed against his chair, trying to avoid eye contact with his brother’s - well, he wasn’t sure what they were really. Crazy ex? Sworn enemy? Partner? Lover? Or maybe it was all of those things.  
  
“Does it hurt?” Rideaux asked, twanging the fork sticking out of Julius’ arm, who winced in pain.  
  
“No,” he said, holding his elbow, keeping his arm secure in his lap. He was lying, Ludger could see it on his face, but he didn’t say anything for fear that he’d end up with a knife sticking out of his own arm.  
  
“Pity, I should try again,” he replied, twirling the feather boa around his neck, his ostentatious red suit as pressed and perfect as his hair, long and straight, fanning delicately over his small shoulders.  
  
The nurse came over and expressed sympathy, handing Ludger the necessary forms to complete in Julius’ stead, his dominant hand immobilized. Ludger filled them out to the best of his abilities, pausing when he arrived at the box that wanted him to indicate how the injury or accident occurred.  
  
“Um,” he paused, and stared at the box for a little, tapping the clipboard with the back of his pen.  
  
Julius leaned over and pointed, “It was a cooking accident.”  
  
“Uh,” It wasn’t how the injury occurred. Julius and Rideaux had been fighting, arguing about something completely and utterly useless, like whether or not they needed to bake more rolls. Very calmly, Julius had emerged from the kitchen, a dishtowel tight around the bleeding, and advised Ludger to please drive him to the Emergency Room. He’d obliged, and Rideaux said that he would ride too, expressing little concern for Julius’ wellbeing and humming along to the radio for much of the drive over. 

Ludger looked up; his brother looked especially serious, grave expression behind his glasses, and Rideaux had a rather devious smile on his lips. “Right,” Ludger said, writing it in the space provided, fishing Julius’ insurance card and identification out of his wallet, finishing up the inpatient forms.  
  
“It’s sexy when you lie,” Rideaux hummed, mostly to himself, crossing his arms and legs, foot waving in the air to the cheesy Christmas music playing softly over the speakers in the lobby.  
  
“I’d rather not file a police report today,” Julius sighed, wincing a little when he tried to move the fork, “Besides, it is a cooking utensil. I’m not too far off.”  
  
Leaning over, Rideaux hesitated for a moment before giving him a peck on the cheek, “Probably for the better. The restraining order has been working out _so_ well.”  
  
Ludger just laughed nervously.

*

“Look, it’s fine,” Julius says, rolling up the sleeve on his coat. There were four small puncture holes in the underside of his right arm, well healed. “We got into an argument. I had a cooking accident.”  
  
“Do you realize how insane you sound?” Milla says with exasperation, throwing her hands in the air. “He came at you with a weapon and you’re acting like it’s completely normal.”  
  
“Well, what do you do when you get into disagreements?” Julius asks, fixing the bolo tie around his neck, looking apathetically at the time on his cellphone. “Hold on, I need to respond to this, he’ll kill me.”  
  
“Well,” Milla pauses, looking thoughtful, “We don’t quarrel. But if we did, you better believe that no one would have a fork in their arm.”  
  
“Normally, we work it out,” Julius sighs, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on the hem of his button-up, putting them back on his face.

“Name one time.”

*  
  
Pulling up to the driveway in his deep blue sports car, Julius paused when he noticed a light on in the window of his living room. He didn’t think he left the light on when he left on his business trip, but there was a possibility that the cat sitter might’ve forgotten when they stopped by to check on Rollo. Pushing the thought from his jetlagged brain, he checks the road before parking in his garage, and did a double take when he thought he saw a brilliant red car parked down the road, but admonishes himself for being overly paranoid. A lot of people owned red cars.

He plucked his suitcase from the very tiny backseat of the car (often joking the only person that fit back there was Rollo) and closed the garage door behind him, squeezing past his other shiny speedsters and into the house, stomach still shifting with a sense of unease. There was something off, and he rationalized that it might be his overactive imagination, but he couldn’t be too careful, and keeps the key of his car between his index and middle finger like a claw just in case.  
  
Rollo was sitting on a barstool at the counter and meowed loudly, standing up and twirling around a few times, begging for attention.  
  
“You’re okay,” Julius laughed, setting his suitcase down by his feet. He picked up the cat and made his way into the living room, stopping dead in his tracks when it was completely devoid of furniture, smashed picture frames on the floor, glass littering the ground. He looked around for any sign of what might’ve happened, and saw several black streaks where it had been moved on the wood flooring.    
  
He set the cat back on the counter in the kitchen and started to try and clean some of it up, moving to grab a broom from the closet and frowning when it was nowhere to be found. Thinking that maybe it was in the garage, he turned around to make his way back and froze when he heard the soft click of dress shoes behind him.  
  
“Looking for this?” the voice of Rideaux drawled, and he tossed the broom in question at Julius’ back, thankfully missing by about a foot.

Without turning around, Julius took a calming breath.

“Where is the furniture?”

“Well, we bought it for our house. Seeing as this is no longer my house, I feel it’s only appropriate I was awarded something for the, you know, _pain and suffering_ you’ve caused,” he purred, his voice low and seductive.  
  
Keeping his back turned didn’t seem like a wise idea, so he slowly faced Rideaux, hands raised in the air, “Aside from at work, you’re not allowed within one-hundred yards of me, you know. Court order and all.”  
  
He twirled a piece of the blond highlight framing his face in his red-gloved hand, “Oh right, that nasty thing. C’est la vie, mon cher, I’m already here.” Sauntering up to Julius, he wrapped his arms around him and leaned over, dropping his voice to a whisper, “And I’m sure you’re dying to see what I’m wearing under this suit.”

If nothing else, the other man knew exactly what to say to him, and any rage Julius felt disappeared. Without thinking, one hand was around Rideaux’s waist, the other one tangled in his long black hair, pulling and tugging as he pressed their lips together. Rideaux moaned into Julius’ mouth and threw his gloves on the floor, fiddling with the buttons on Julius’ suit jacket and dress shirt, yanking it open as quickly as possible.  
  
“I took the bed,” he said breathlessly, tearing their lips apart for a brief moment.  
  
“You took—you took the bed?” Julius managed to slip out between Rideaux’s biting, lips bruising more and more by the second. He hoists the other up by his thighs and Rideaux wraps his legs around Julius’ hips as he maneuvers them to the kitchen, setting Rideaux on the travertine counter.  
  
“I loved that fucking bed,” he shoved Julius away from him, unbuckling his belt and running his long fingernails down the flesh of his toned abdomen. “Remember all the fun we had with it? The four posters were just perfect for tying you up.”  
  
Julius’ lips were on Rideaux’s neck and and he removed his pants the rest of the way, haphazardly throwing them somewhere on the kitchen floor. Rideaux clawed as hard as he could against his companion’s back and Julius was already embarrassingly aroused, pulling off the many layers of Rideaux’s suit.  
  
“And those noises you made? God, most of the time you didn’t even deserve punishment but they were just too perfect,” he laughed, and Julius groaned into the crook of his neck, feeling his fingers grace the boning of Rideaux’s corset, laced tightly around his slim waist. His dress shirt was completely unbuttoned, jacket slipping off his shoulders, tie undone around his neck and Julius slipped his fingers into his pants, following the line of his garters, pinching at the lace underwear.  
  
“Please let me fuck you,” he said, sliding Rideaux’s pants down his thighs, letting them drop to the floor.  
  
“Oh, you think I’m going to allow it just like that? Get on your knees, Julius,” he commanded, kicking him in the stomach, shoving him away from his body, “Show me you want me. My body is a privilege; I’m not going to just throw myself at you.”  
  
He did as he was told and knelt, reflexively placing his hands behind his back, “Please let me fuck you, I’ve missed you, I need you.”  
  
Tracing patterns on Julius’ neck, he ran his finger up his throat to his chin and tapped lightly, “Make me believe you need it.”  
  
Groaning, Julius’ voice was tired and it was hard to control his actions, completely succumbed to desire and surrendered to abandon instead of reason, looking at the floor, knowing better than to make eye contact without asking first, “I need to feel you. I don’t deserve you, but I want it.”

“And who will you always belong to?” Rideaux asked, hand closing around Julius’ throat, standing close enough for the ruffle of his corset to grace Julius’ cheek.  
  
“You, Rideaux.”  
  
“Good,” he murmured, grabbing a bottle of lubricant from the inner lining of his suit jacket, and offered his hand to Julius, giving him permission to rise. He hopped back up on the counter, pulling their bodies close together.

Julius pushed Rideaux’s legs up and reached under the garter belt, sliding Rideaux’s panties down his legs as painfully slowly as he could manage before blindly feeling for the small container. He slicked his fingers and slipped them into the other man, working him open, though it wasn’t too difficult.

When he decided that he’d had sufficient enough preparation, Julius wraps Rideaux’s legs around his waist, dragging him from the counter to the kitchen wall. Rideaux’s head is buried into Julius’s shoulder, moaning loudly, and he supported him from underneath his thighs. The feel of the tops of his fishnets only turns him on even further. Without further preamble, he thrusts up into the other man, enjoying the small ‘Julius’ that he let escape before Rideaux took control of the situation, digging his finger nails into Julius’ shoulders, riding his cock without abandon.  
  
“You’re so pathetic, you think you’re in control,” he laughed, letting his head hit the back of the wall, black hair pulled over one shoulder. Julius took the opportunity to bite at the exposed skin and Rideaux hissed, stabbing his nails into Julius as hard as he could manage in his current position.  
  
“Of course I’m not,” Julius panted, and fucked him as hard as he could, knowing that Rideaux could take the pain. One of the garters snapped loose against his hand and the thigh high started to roll down. He looked at Rideaux’s pale thigh through half-lidded eyes and wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into the flesh, but he couldn’t in his current position, and just drove into him more harshly, breathing becoming more and more labored.  
  
To Julius’ surprise, Rideaux was the one that crashed their lips together again, making humiliating noises into Julius’ mouth. He was trying desperately to subdue his actions and keep himself in a position of power, but it was difficult when his arms were wrapped around Julius’ neck and he had to depend on the other man to keep him supported.  
  
They stayed with their lips locked together for quite some time, Rideaux’s back hitting the wall with a decent amount of force, teeth tearing the inside of Julius’ mouth open. Julius pulled away first, unable to catch his breath after kissing someone for so long, and paused for a moment to appreciate the way Rideaux looked in the dim light streaming in from the wide bay windows, moon settling over the ocean that lapped at the sand. His hair clung to his forehead and grew progressively more tangled with each passing moment, but Julius couldn’t remember the last time they’d done something so intimate.  
  
“You can—inside me,” Rideaux gasped, still managing to ride him even in his half-delirious state. His cock was pressed against Julius’ stomach and he came with a loud moan, the other side of his garter snapping open. Julius didn’t take much longer, thrusting up inside of him. His knees buckled under his orgasm and he panicked for a moment, unable to support Rideaux’s weight, and they collapsed backward, falling in a pile on top of each other in the middle of the kitchen floor.  
  
“Idiot, I could’ve hurt myself,” Rideaux snapped, pushing himself off of Julius’ body, reattaching his fishnets to the garter clips and sitting back against the counter. Julius just laughed, enjoying the feeling of the cool wood flooring against his sweaty skin, arm muscles sore. Somewhere to his left, Rollo meowed plaintively.  
  
Silence lapsed between them and neither made a move to get up or re-dress. Suddenly, Julius frowned as a thought occurred to him. “How did you manage to get in here?” he asked, “I changed the locks and the security code weeks ago.”  
  
“Well,” Rideaux sighed, running a hand through his long black hair, “I made a copy of your key at work when you weren’t paying attention—as usual, I might add—and until everything is finalized, my last name is still Kresnik. The employees at the alarm company were stupid enough to believe I’d forgotten my access code.”  
  
Julius just laughed, “I’m going to have to change that again, you know.”  
  
“Try me,” Rideaux said, kicking Julius lightly in the thigh. 

* 

Milla sighs, “Well?”  
  
“Hold on, I need to take this,” Julius mutters, clicking a button on his phone, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. Rollo finally wakes up, sitting for a moment, blinking heavily, and Ludger tries to coax the cat into his lap.  
  
“I think your family might be worse than mine,” Milla laughs, stretching and falling back on the couch cushions, “The worst thing I think my sister has done is try and sleep with you, but if I decided not to date every person she’s tried to sleep with, I’d be alone.”

“No—no, I didn’t—“ Julius says from the kitchen, slamming the refrigerator door especially forcefully, rattling the items inside. Rollo perked his ears and trotted to the kitchen, clamoring onto a barstool, probably to try and see if it’s treat time.  “You don’t—“ he pulls the phone away from his ear and leans against the counter, resting on his elbows.  
  
“What was that about?” Milla asks, pulling her phone from the back pocket of her bedazzled jean shorts, checking her social media accounts.  
  
“He’s coming over,” Julius said, pushing his body off the counter and flopping back in his seat across from Milla and Ludger, crossing his legs, unceremoniously throwing his phone on the couch. Rollo complains from the kitchen that he didn’t get any treats.  
  
“Did, um, something happen?” Ludger asks tentatively, worrying about his brother.  
  
Julius sighs heavily and doesn’t make eye contact, “Do you remember that trip we took a few years ago?”

“Oh no,” Milla says, burying her face in her hands, blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

*

The suite was completely and utterly trashed. There were empty champagne bottles shattered on the tile floor, clothing strewn all over the room, and the minibar was decimated, in addition to half-eaten room service falling half on the plate and half off the plate on the small table. Julius tried to rub his temples, but he tugs on one wrist and feels the familiar jingle of a handcuff. Instead, he cracked one eye open, groaning when the light assaults his vision.  
  
Somehow, he managed to sit up, wrists still bound behind him, and just stares (slightly horrified) at the mess, making a mental note to tip the cleaning staff before departure. Without his glasses, he could barely make out Rideaux’s figure by the coffee table in the sitting area of the suite, but he can tell that he’s already holding a Bloody Mary, looking distastefully at a piece of paper in his hands.  
  
“Oh, you’re up,” Rideaux said and yawned, wrapping his robe closer around his body as he walked toward the bed, fixing his hair pulled back in a ponytail, “How much do you remember?” He asked, setting the drink on the end table, shoving Julius’ glasses on his face for him.  
  
“Not much,” Julius rattled the chains and Rideaux rolled his eyes, frowning as he looked for the key in the mess around them. “I can’t feel my hands.”  
  
“You’re much more manageable like that, quit whining,” Rideaux said, grabbing his bag from the end of the bed and dumping it out, finally locating the spare key on his key ring. He shoots the rest of the Bloody Mary and coughs before he crawls behind Julius, unlocking the handcuffs. Julius massaged his wrists, knowing that there’d be a giant bruise by the evening.  
  
“Oh,” Rideaux said, leaning over and snatching a stack of papers on the minibar counter. “I have a present for you.”  
  
Julius looked at him with concern, accepting the pink and blue sheet of paper, narrowing his eyes at the title, “This isn’t—“

“’Til death do us part,” he said, “According to the brochure I managed to save, we’ll get our fun and flirty photos online in a few days with our unique access code ‘KresnikWed13’ to share with all our friends and family. Gosh, I just can’t wait to spread the news at Spirius on Monday.”

“This doesn’t leave the hotel,” Julius said, dropping the piece of paper on the comforter, too sober and too hung over to deal with absolutely anything in his state.  
  
“No, I think I’ll start signing all of my documents as ‘Mrs. Julius Will Kresnik’ if that’s okay with you. Maybe scrawl ‘Just Married’ on the back window of my Ferrari, too.” Rideaux spat, throwing himself against the pillows with dramatic flair, groaning and kicking his feet like a child having a temper tantrum.  
  
Julius sighed and leaned back against the pillows, resting his head against Rideaux’s shoulder, hesitating for a moment before lacing their fingers together, “Well, if you wanted the court records to read that we were too drunk to consent, we could file for an annulment, but as lawyers—“

“—Fucking stupid—“

“—Right, so file for divorce or—“  
  
“—Make it work—“ they finished in unison and stared up at the ceiling. Without warning, Rideaux pulled his hand away and whacked him hard in the stomach. Julius lost his breath, coughing and sputtering. 

*

Ludger doesn’t say anything, just stands up and makes a direct line for the liquor cabinet in the back of the dining room, dumping a shot of vodka into a small glass and shooting it back, pausing for a couple of moments and then shooting back two more.  
  
“Relax, we’re more or less divorced now,” Julius says, raising his voice so Ludger can hear him from the other room. Ludger raises his shotglass in acknowledgment, then looks over, confused.  
  
“More or less?” He asks, hesitation tracing every word.

*  
  
“How are your very minor scratches doing?” Rideaux asked, taking an unnecessarily long drink from his paper coffee cup, with his unnecessarily complicated order scrawled onto the side. Julius was pretty sure there was more aspartame and tears of the poor barista that had to deal with him in the morning in it than any actual espresso.

The courthouse was pretty quiet for the middle of a Monday, but Julius didn’t question the eerie silence, and held tightly to his briefcase, trying to stand as far away from Rideaux as possible. He’d tried to avoid having to show up in court, but Rideaux didn’t seem to want any of the compromises Julius offered regarding their joint assets. In fact, he wanted it all. And alimony on top of all of it. 

Instinctively, Julius touched the bandage on his eyebrow, part of his hand wrapped in gauze, “Stitches come out next week, and the doctor seems to think they’ll heal fine.”  
  
“How unfortunate, I wanted to leave you with something to remember me by,” he sighed and tossed his long hair over one shoulder, leaning against the wall. “I suppose a scalpel wasn’t the best weapon of choice, hm? Incisions are too clean.”  
  
Julius raised an eyebrow (the good one) and replied, “Oh don’t worry, I have plenty to keep your memory alive,” Julius muttered, checking his email on his phone, making sure to keep one eye on Rideaux. He wasn’t to be trusted. He was never really to be trusted, but especially since their “altercation” (the polite term he used in his restraining order paperwork) a few weeks ago over the house. 

“True,” Rideaux pondered, sipping his latte and tapping his chin thoughtfully, “You look good, by the way. I’ve always liked that suit.”  
  
“You too,” Julius said, scratching the back of his neck, fixing his glasses and directing his attention back to his phone. It wasn’t all bad, he thought. For a while, they’d almost worked together.  
  
Smirking a little, Rideaux said, “I don’t care about the house.”

“You don’t?”  
  
He shook his head and sat on the bench outside the judge’s chambers, tapping his knees together over and over. Looking up through his ruffled v-shaped bangs, Julius thought he smiled a little. “This is going to sound strange,” he admitted, setting his coffee down, stretching his long legs straight out on the floor in front of him, placing his hands on his knees.

Julius thought he looked younger, more childish, and, perhaps against his better judgment, sat down next to him, “I’m listening.”  
  
“I just wanted to argue a case with you, like we used to when we were both new hires out of college. Now that we’re directors, I don’t know, we do stacks of paperwork and I miss how angry you used to get when you lost. That’s stupid, isn’t it?” He tucked his hair behind one ear and clicked his shoes together a few times, fidgeting in his seat.  
  
All Julius could do was laugh, “Rideaux, I promise that I will fight you until the day you kill me.”  
  
“You mean it?” Rideaux asked, crossing his legs and then uncrossing his legs and deciding on crossing them again. He paused for a moment, and then reached over to grab Julius’ hand.

“For better or for worse, I do,” he replied, leaning over and moving Rideaux’s blond streak from his vision, and just as he was about to press their lips together, he felt a foot slam into his shin and a surge of pain shot up through his side.  
  
“Fucking idiot,” Rideaux said, pushing Julius off the bench. Shocked and confused, Julius looked up from his position on the floor, his briefcase falling open, spilling papers on the tile. Rideaux sauntered over to him and pushed his foot on Julius’ chest, shoving the toe box of his dress shoe into his throat, “I want that goddamn house, and I don’t settle for losing, unlike you. I will take everything you own and rip your pathetic little life to shreds, Kresnik.”  
  
Coughing from the pressure against his voice box, Julius heard the door open behind them, bailiff clearing his throat to indicate his presence, “The, um, the judge will see you.”  
  
Kicking Julius in the side for good measure, Rideaux collected his things and strode into the courtroom, slamming the door behind him.

*  
  
“I never signed the decree,” Julius admits, “I had the restraining order filed, we sort of separated the assets, and I just, I didn’t sign it. What if he’s—I don’t know—perfect for me, and we just have the same fatal flaw?”

“So that’s why he’s coming over—“ Milla starts, Ludger’s groaning cutting her off.  
  
Ludger went from taking shots to just serving himself vodka over ice, sitting in the couch, trying to process all of the information at once. He doesn’t ever see this side of his brother, and it scares him a little because it’s so alien.

“And what would that be?” Milla asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re both complete idiots. But by all means, stay with him. This is just natural selection at its finest.”  
  
She pauses when she hears the roar of a car engine and honking outside and Julius’ face grows concerned, “Oh, he’s mad.”  
  
Rideaux doesn’t knock on the front door, just shoves a key in and bursts it open, banging it against the wall, picture frame rattling and falling to the ground with a crack. The coat of his suit has fallen off, and hangs from his elbows, usual scarf completely untied, hanging listlessly around his neck. He has a manic look in his eye, and despite the anger visible in his expression, he’s smiling. That can’t be good, Ludger thinks, downing the rest of his drink, standing up.  
  
“Both the Kresniks?” He laughs, slamming the door, tugging off his gloves with his teeth. “And Miss Maxwell, too? Looks like the family’s already here for your funeral—pity we didn’t invite Bisley, as well.” Rideaux procures a switchblade from the holster on his hip, flicking it open. “Come on Julius, beg for it.”  
  
“We can talk this out—“  
  
“Shame this has to happen in _my_ beach house, cleaning up is going to be _so_ tiresome,” he takes a few dangerous steps closer and Julius moves a few paces back, tripping over the coffee table.  
  
Neither Milla nor Ludger know what to do, and, frantic, Ludger grabs her and tugs her behind the couch, yanking the phone from her shorts pocket and dialing 911. He whispers into the receiver as to not alert the two men, but his voice is still loud enough that they can hear, “There’s uh, there’s a guy with a knife and, what?”  
  
“Oh, how precious, he’s calling the police,” Rideaux says, dress shoes clicking softly on the wood floors.  
  
“Right, Ludger Will Kresnik, yeah, that’s the location— Sorry, no, no one is hurt yet but—“  
  
“Rideaux, we can talk about this,” and Ludger hears Julius scrambling backward, back hitting the wall, and before he’s able to answer the operator’s next question there’s a noise that sounds like a collision and the sound of glass shattering and Ludger drops the phone. He hesitates for a minute, but pokes his head up to survey the damage, praying that everyone survived the impact.  
  
He was not prepared, however, for the knife stuck in the plaster above Julius’ head, window shattered in a million pieces on the wood floor, Rollo poofed and cowering under the dining room chair, and Rideaux straddling Julius’ hips, his coat torn off his body. Julius has his hands wrapped around his waist and they’re kissing fervently, biting and sucking on each other’s lips.  
  
_“Sir? Sir, is everyone alright? We’ve dispatched police immediately,”_ the operator says loudly over the phone, and Milla picks it up.  
  
“Yes, we appear to be unharmed,” and Milla shifts onto her knees, looking over the back of the couch with Ludger.  
  
Julius pulls back breathlessly, “Rideaux Zek Rugievit, will you divorce me, er, again?”  
  
“God yes,” Rideaux replies, shoving their bodies back together.  
  
The sirens wail in the distance and Ludger can hear them getting progressively closer by the second. There’s commotion from the neighbors outside, talking amongst themselves, and Ludger asks, “They don’t stand a chance, do they?”  
  
Milla crosses her arms over her chest and sighs, “Not a chance in hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
